Excerpt
EVA
Suggested by Mrs. Stowe's tale of Uncle Tom's Cabin, and written when the characters in the tale were realities by the fireside of countless American homes.
Dry the tears for holy Eva,With the blessed angels leave her;Of the form so soft and fairGive to earth the tender care.
For the golden locks of EvaLet the sunny south-land give herFlowery pillow of repose,Orange-bloom and budding rose.
In the better home of EvaLet the shining ones receive her,With the welcome-voiced psalm,Harp of gold and waving palm,
All is light and peace with Eva;There the darkness cometh never;Tears are wiped, and fetters fall.And the Lord is all in all.
Weep no more for happy Eva,Wrong and sin no more shall grieve her;Care and pain and wearinessLost in love so measureless.
Gentle Eva, loving Eva,Child confessor, true believer,Listener at the Master's knee,"Suffer such to come to me."
Oh, for faith like thine, sweet Eva,Lighting all the solemn river,And the blessings of the poorWafting to the heavenly shore!1852
A LAY OF OLD TIME.Written for the Essex County Agricultural Fair, and sung at the banquet at Newburyport, October 2, 1856.
One morning of the first sad Fall,Poor Adam and his brideSat in the shade of Eden's wall—But on the outer side.
She, blushing in her fig-leaf suitFor the chaste garb of old;He, sighing o'er his bitter fruitFor Eden's drupes of gold.
Behind them, smiling in the morn,Their forfeit garden lay,Before them, wild with rock and thorn,The desert stretched away.
They heard the air above them fanned,A light step on the sward,And lo! they saw before them standThe angel of the Lord!
"Arise," he said, "why look behind,When hope is all before,And patient hand and willing mind,Your loss may yet restore?
"I leave with you a spell whose powerCan make the desert glad,And call around you fruit and flowerAs fair as Eden had.
"I clothe your hands with power to liftThe curse from off your soil;Your very doom shall seem a gift,Your loss a gain through Toil.
"Go, cheerful as yon humming-bees,To labor as to play."White glimmering over Eden's treesThe angel passed away.
The pilgrims of the world went forthObedient to the word,And found where'er they tilled the earthA garden of the Lord!
The thorn-tree cast its evil fruitAnd blushed with plum and pear,And seeded grass and trodden rootGrew sweet beneath their care.
We share our primal parents' fate,And, in our turn and day,Look back on Eden's sworded gateAs sad and lost as they.
But still for us his native skiesThe pitying Angel leaves,And leads through Toil to ParadiseNew Adams and new Eves!
A SONG OF HARVESTFor the Agricultural and Horticultural Exhibition at Amesbury and Salisbury, September 28, 1858.
This day, two hundred years ago,The wild grape by the river's side,And tasteless groundnut trailing low,The table of the woods supplied.
Unknown the apple's red and gold,The blushing tint of peach and pear;The mirror of the Powow toldNo tale of orchards ripe and rare....